Tangled
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "It had been five years to the day that they'd lost Shane. Five years to the day and a lot had changed." Rick/Group


**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Warnings:** This is my fill response to a prompt posted on LJ at the TWD_Kink meme: _"Everyone/Everyone: Eventually, they just figured what the hell, it was the end of the world and they all seemed to get along better when they were all sleeping with each other." -_*** **Spoilers for "Judge, Jury, and Executioner" & "Better Angels."

**Authors Note #1:** Rated for adult situations: mainly allusions to slash, heterosexual, and group related 'togetherness' and other adult situations. This is mostly just a fluffy, small little fill meant to get me back into the mindset of writing WD again.

**Tangled**

By the time his watch was over he was cold, wet, and borderline miserable. And as self serving as it was, for once he didn't draw it out. In fact he was up and off that damn platform the moment his four hours had passed. Refusing to feel even the least bit guilty as his soggy clothes clung and squelched against his skin. Heading back towards the house like it was the sole beacon flickering out in the encompassing dark. - And hell, considering the nature of these troubling days, maybe it was…

_Christ, he hated the rain._

The grating crunch of gravel grinding against gravel dogged his steps as he made his way up the drive. One hand resting on his holster as he surveyed the breadth of the property from the porch steps, fingers ghosting across the chilled metal barrel of his old python as his thumbed the buckles and snaps almost unconsciously.

It had been five years to the day that they'd lost Shane. Five years to the day and a lot had changed. They'd weathered the constant hordes; their first winter and then their first planting season. They made mistakes, learned from them, and then made fresh ones to take their place. They'd met new friends, and new enemies. They'd watched Carl grow, and bonded together over the birth of their little Sophia, now a vivacious four year old who had just about everyone wrapped around her chubby little finger. No one ever mentioned that she had Shane's nose and Lori's slight build. _They didn't have to. _

It had been raining steadily for the better part of a week by his reckoning. And it had been keeping the lot of them pretty much house bound. All of them sticking close by save for tending to the animals and heading out on the odd supply run. Working on projects in the barn or blueprints for the new extension they planned to add to the workshop next spring.

All of them save for Daryl of course. Hell, the man might as well have grown _gills_ for all he knew. Seeming to revel in the opportunity to get down right _filthy_ as he tramped through the woods like some sort of Deep South water sprite, tracking the local deer population, and keeping an eye out for any stray cattle they could add to their growing herd as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks to months.

In fact he was half convinced that the man got off on meandering back to the house after a long day out. Shaking himself like a dog on the front porch before spreading water rimmed footprints across the hardwood, never missing the opportunity to make Sophia squeal as he flicked water droplets in her general direction. Even swooping down to rub his sodden face across her little cheeks on sheer principal if he was feeling particularly feisty.

His grin going blissfully lop-sided as Sophia would squirm and shrill. Her high pitched giggles echoing throughout the house until he shucked his vest and stalked towards the kitchen. Sophia often still firmly affixed to the curve of his hip, ready to be fussed over by Carol and Patricia.

Even on a bad day, Daryl often forgot to be surly and bad tempered somewhere in between Sophia, a cup of Carol's sweet tea, and that strategically free arm chair by the fire as everyone eventually gravitated towards the main room. Coming together to share the news of the day, each reminded in their own way, of just how truly lucky they all were.

And funnily enough, somewhere along the line, _that_ had become their new normal. Hershel called it a blessing, and he'd be damned if he didn't agree.

He inclined his head towards Hershel as the older man passed him in the hall, heading out towards the windmill to take his turn on watch. Not missing the small, but undeniably indulgent smile that graced the older man's lips as the soft rasp of more then a few different snores echoes down the hall. He just grinned.

But before he entered the main sleeping area he made a detour upstairs, skipping the first, sixth and tenth stair with the accustomed ease. Not wanting to risk waking the others as he made his way towards Carl and Sophia's bedrooms. Looking in on the both of them before he exited as silently as he'd came.

He slipped into the kitchen and nabbed a glass of cold tea and a handful of biscuits. Watching out of the window as Hershel reached the lookout a carefully started to climb up to the platform. Wincing reflexively as the older man settled into the sagging camp chair and battered little overhang they'd built into the side. They'd all tried to talk the man out of standing watch, especially in this weather, but the older man was having none of it. Still as stubborn as anything despite the fact that the last few years had been anything but kind. He shook his head, giving the man a small wave before turning off the kitchen light and heading back towards the others.

And for a long moment he simply stared. Idling at the threshold and marveling at how far they'd come as he took in the tangled mess that made up his _family._ He shook his head at that, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he turned the word over in his mind. Because that was what they were now, they were no longer simply a group or a mess of people that were just surviving together.

_He liked to think that Dale would have been proud of that._

It was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other left off, a reality that these days he wouldn't trade for anything. No matter what society or the old ways might have to say about it. All he knew was that this was _good_. That this_ worked_. And that this, despite all odds, was exactly what they _needed_.

He watched in silence as Daryl shifted in his sleep, butting his way back underneath Glenn and Carol's outstretched arms as the hunter borrowed deeper into the little hollow he'd made between them. Unconsciously soaking up the closeness as Glenn moved with him, one leg draped across the span of his thighs as the younger man's stark black hair glinted in the low light.

Seemingly mindless of the way the man's rough, scar strewn flesh cast awkward hollows and shadow smudged slashes when set against Glenn's smooth, ivory skin. It was a sight that even after all this time, still made him smile into his glass. – They'd always been a peculiar pair. That much he had to admit.

All he could see of Andrea was the heady tint of her golden blond hair sticking out from a jumbled mess of lean backs and arching necks. And even that was nearly covered over by the comforting drape of T-dog's chest and one of Maggie's splayed thighs. He couldn't see Lori. But after a moment of looking he caught sight of a familiar, freckled shoulder sticking up from somewhere amidst the busy tangle that was Jimmy, Patricia, and Beth. He had to stifle a chuckle at that; they hadn't moved an inch since he'd left. The four of them had always been the heaviest sleepers. Even after the baby.

Stripping down to his boxers, he tip-toed past the foursome's strewn limbs and trailing curls. Knowing from experience that there was no way he was wiggling his way back into that pile. So instead of trying he dropped a quick kiss on her temple and continued on his way, skirting the edges until he spotted his opportunity and dived for it. Finding an opening between Daryl and Carol as he carefully made his way over the odd limb and far flung pillow before delicately wedging himself into the tiny gap.

But despite his care, Daryl stirred. And barely awake or not, the man turned. Hand going for the buck knife he kept under his pillow before he realized who it was and relaxed. Blinking up at him in a sleep-creased mess of sullen, understated beauty and enticingly mussed up hair as he settled back into the sultry sea of welcoming limbs without a word.

In fact the man hardly missed a beat when his sudden movement elicited a disgruntled sounding mewl from Glenn. Brow creasing in a worried frown until the hunter laid a hand on him. Idly tracing in the curve of his hip until Glenn settled, huddling closer into the awkward jut of the man's side before subsiding into soft snores.

"…Awl'ight?" Daryl slurred, making room beside him as he spoke, his voice raw and coarse as he cleared his throat. The hunter's words were slow and thick with sleep. Rolling off his tongue like a bowl of molasses languishing in the mid summer heat. And perhaps not so coincidentally it was also a tone that had never failed to send a burst of heat coiling low in his belly, or an aroused flush sparking down the length of his pleasure-warmed skin. Almost as if turning him on was as natural to the younger man as _breathing_.

"Everything's fine, Hershel's on watch," he whispered, letting a hand run down the curve of the man's arm as he stole a slow kiss and the other half of Daryl's pillow. "…go back to sleep hmm?" he murmured.

But Daryl only hummed in response, eyes already half closed as he slung an arm over his side and towed him in. Snuffling into the curve of his neck as Carol cuddled into his chest, one dainty, bird-like hand reaching up to card through his hair as the covers were pulled up around the four of them.

And as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but think that sometimes, especially in times like these, that the end of the world didn't seem so bad after all.

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><p><strong>AN:** Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love!


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